


Vices

by hiddenclawsof



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 | Choi Luciel's Route, Alternate Universe, Friendship, Kang Jaehee's Route (Mystic Messenger), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22238512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenclawsof/pseuds/hiddenclawsof
Summary: Seven in different forms of vices and his friends who try their best to save him from falling.
Kudos: 31





	1. Cigarettes

**_Cigarettes._ **

Seven took his last stick of cigarette from his case and lit it up using an electric lighter. Staring at the lonely dark sky, twinkling little stars, he slowly reached the endless space using his other hand and grasp the thin air. Breathing and puffing out the menthol smoke in and out of his lungs was what calmed him during this kind of nights- which was _every single night._ He sighed and put his long finger in his palm and slowly brought his arms down while a single tear began to wet his eyeballs.

He sometimes wished he couldn’t see anymore. His days were all in agony. He wakes up only to be greeted by his three monitors, he sleeps with the flash of green numerical codes and fills up his stomach with junk foods and carbonated drinks. _Why can’t he die just yet?_ He keeps on asking himself over and over again.

He may have emptied three of the cigarette boxes, may have drank up an entire carton of carbonated drinks, but none of these makes him feel full. He feels so empty, so fucking empty.

Seeing the starry night sky like that makes him despise himself as he chuckled through the guilt of leaving his brother. He wanted to believe that Rika and V took his brother to the paradise he deserved. He wanted to believe that his smaller twin is living happily, maybe with a girl he has a crush on, maybe with tubs and tubs of ice cream with his little smile and maybe- just maybe, with the knowledge that his older brother didn’t leave him alone to wither and die in the cruel hands of their mother.

He wished all of those. He keeps on praying to God, if ever he was finally listening to him, that his brother was well and kicking.

But no-

He was certain that he was not selfish.

He sacrificed everything, even himself, to protect his brother. He ran miles and miles with a bullet hole in his back, several wounds that may seem infected. He fought a lot of battles without a blink of an eye. His fingers were all calloused with the ink of the letter in his keyboards already erased. He began to form unwanted muscles, contusions all over his thighs and arms, together with the _unwanted hatred and anger_ he’s been feeding up his ego.

He was not the happy-go-lucky guy Yoosung made him up to be neither was he the genius hacker that is good at his job that Zen always bragged him to be. Every **lololol** he’s sending was a break of his heart strings, every **memes** were just a representation of how his mind is already going crazy because of his crippling sadness.

It hurts. So fucking hurts.

He clutched a hand on his chest as he began to take up a few centimeters of his nicotine filled tobacco. _Inhale, then go exhale your lungs out Saeyoung- ah no, you’re Luciel._ He exhaled as the tears the welled up his eyes began to fall one by one.

Despite hearing the tires of his supervisor’s car, he crutched his chest harder than before. Maybe if this physical pain he’s feeling from his fragile fingers will take away the pain he’s feeling inside this hollow shaped organ and cavity, he’ll feel a little bit better.

As the ashes began to fall and fly with the help of the wind in this lonely, cold night, he silently shut his eyelids, tightly. His knees failed him at the same time and fell on the hard-cold wooden floors of his veranda.

The moon smiled at him and shone brighter than Seven could remember.

 _Please, make this stop. I just want to be who I am again._ He plead.

His neck got wet by his tears and his eyeglasses shine with the help of the moonlight.

And the remaining filter of his cigarette was released by his digits and fell on his thigh.

_It’s warm and it’s painful._

But no vices can make him feel alive again.


	2. Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol was something he hated, but could never ignored.

**_Alcohol._ **

Like his favorite carbonated drink Ph.D Pepper, he chugged the last ounce of alcohol sitting in the green colored bottle settled right in front of his third monitor. To answer your question, _no, alcohol doesn’t help him concentrate in his work,_ it rather does the opposite. It reeks like his mother’s scent, and _God_ knows how much he hated it. But he has no choice.

He has no excuses like him running out of his Ph.D Pepper because everyone knew that he doesn’t run out of it. It’s just that his vessels and blood are running out of downers lately.

His mind couldn’t concentrate, it’s like he’s slowly having panic attacks when the blinking green lights of the codes stare at him with no other movements than that. His fingers were already numb from continuously typing here and there, but none of his complicated algorithm can give him the coordinates of the location of the server of his client’s enemy.

His mind started to twirl and swirl, the muffled voices inside his head weren’t muffled anymore. _They were screaming at the top of their lungs._ He wanted to feel alive every single second of his life and whoever it is that said that pain is the best way to know if you’re alive sucks because no, it doesn’t help him to feel alive, _it just digs its way deeper to this black hole inside his heart._

Slowly standing up, he felt his knees wobble from the excessive alcohol in his system, but it doesn’t really matter. _No matter what the consequences and risks are, a secret agent like him should always finish his task._ He slowly and painfully reached for another bottle of alcohol in his fridge and opened it with an opener stuck on his fridge.

_Clack-_

He watched the booze of air slowly releasing from the sudden release of pressure. He bit his tongue, afraid to let out any kind of scowl.

He never really liked the taste of alcohol because it was bitter which makes him think that it doesn’t have enough glucose needed by his brain to process a handful of algorithm and codes flashing. He also didn’t like the smell of it, it wasn’t as enticing as his favorite Ph.D Pepper that may taste somewhat like wine but filling that wine with carbon makes the cons of it go away. He also didn’t like how most of the alcohol sold in the market were in bottles- maybe it was cheaper and recyclable and _damn those capitalists._

But most of all, he didn’t like the way it calms him down as if it was his last resort in this cruel world.

He chugged the bottle once more, leaving no trace of dislike towards the drink and filled his stomach. _Who cares about his body deteriorating?_ When he himself doesn’t even care.

Yoosung’s face flashed in his mind, those arrogant lavender eyes, squinting at him and telling him to eat at least a spoonful of his cooked omelet. He didn’t really like Yoosung. He was more of annoyed by this guy and the way his eyes sparkled whenever Seven does something cool.

He hated the way he sees his brother in Yoosung.

 _God_ \- he hated all of them.

He hated the way Jaehee would push her glasses up and nag at him like a mother to eat more nourished meals as if the woman herself eat those kinds of food. He hated the way Jumin would take Elly away from him when all Seven could ever do to ease his loneliness was to be with that cat. And most especially he hated Zen because he sees himself in Zen.

And even if Zen is a mere creature of his own, he hated seeing Zen hide behind that beautiful facade of his narcissistic remarks and pet his growing dependence on other people’s thoughts about him. He hated the way he always wanted to be perceived as someone who’s perfect because Seven himself was not, yet **all of them** praises him for everything.

 _Damn._ He thought as he sat in front of his fridge and let it open for fresh air, maybe? And to see little by little how much of the alcohol he has left were forcefully drove down his esophagus.

He held another bottle on his hand, with darkness and blurriness filling his vision, he can no longer distinguish which is which. He couldn’t find the opener and without giving it much thought-

_He slammed the bottle on the floor._

Who cares about the alcohol spilling and the glass bottles waiting to prick him?

That ringing sound stayed inside his head. It was on loop, on replay, getting louder each and every moment he breathe.

With his glasses still hanging on his ears and resting on his nose, its lenses got wet from the tears he has been holding up till now. _He misses Saeran, he misses his only family. He wanted to bring his brother to the RFA and see if they would accept him the way they do with Seven._ But he knew there was nothing he could do.

Neither his hacking skills could locate his brother, nor his trusted-savior V and Rika could tell him where his brother was.

He knew he can’t see his brother.

_But don’t you think he deserved at least a little bit of happiness?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do appreciate the kudos after such a long week for me. Thank you.


	3. Driving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never thought that Yoosung would stop him again, for the nth time.

**_Driving._ **

Sometimes he goes out of his supervisor’s way to drive through the railroad and try to loosen up his nerves and think about a _lot_ of things. Not that his supervisor’s rejecting his request, his supervisor just wanted him to report to him immediately because whenever Seven’s driving around the _town,_ he seems to forget the time.

He fished out his phone before starting the engine of his car and proceeded to _their_ chatroom.

**707: Hiya hiyaaa~**

**Yoosung: Hyung!! Come and play with me, are you busy?**

**707: God Seven is always busy Yoosung.. T.T**

**707: But!**

**707: I might think about it!**

**707: Laturz!**

_707 has left the chatroom._

**Yoosung: What… he just left….**

**Yoosung: Well maybe I’ll call him later**

**Yoosung: Don’t forget to eat hyung!**

**Yoosung: Byeeee**

_Yoosung has left the chatroom._

He wanted to say that he was not busy because in reality, he never was. Especially for Yoosung. He read through the messages of Yoosung in their chatroom masking off his activity. He always wanted to spend time with Yoosung, that _damned boy_ was always worth his time, but he couldn’t.

_Not like this._

He threw his phone in the passenger seat and started the engine of his car. This time, he doesn’t need the help of his navigator, this time he just wanted to be _freely roaming around._

He always wanted to go to space.

Float around and let the world do its job to him. Maybe, if there Is no gravity that is pulling him down, he wouldn’t feel a heavy load on his shoulders that couldn’t seem to get off no matter how much he shakes this off.

_Space station?_

He wanted to go to the moon too. He wanted to leave at least a mark of his identity in the moon being _Choi Saeyoung_ and not all those fake identities he has right now. He wanted to at least leave a piece of himself despite being unwanted by a lot of people.

Despite being hated and loathed.

He looked front and stayed his gaze at that direction. In this place, where no one would drive around like him, where no one could find him unless it’s Vanderwood- his supervisor, he can do anything he wanted to.

 **He like this place genuinely**. He felt like he could be himself and not some under cockroach living behind the name of Agent 707 Extreme. He can be Saeyoung, someone who just wanted to live happily with his twin brother **. He like this place genuinely** because here he can shout, throw a tantrum, rage all he can. **He like this place genuinely** because he can carelessly knock off things, bump this tree and this signpost. **He like this place genuinely** because it is the only thing that is genuine in his life right now.

He’s afraid that everything he has will vanish.

_RFA, his cars, his brother and even that stupid supervisor he has._

He’s so terrified that he unconsciously _or rather not_ stepped on the pedal of gas harder and harder until the speed of his car went 100 kph.

He liked the wind gushing through his hair face, almost knocking off his eyeglasses.

He liked how the moon followed him wherever and whenever he took turns here and there.

And out of all the things he liked, he hated that he cannot adore the people he likes because he’s hated himself more than anyone else.

The road was straight head-on. There are no obstacles that needed to be aware of, nor were there any other things he has that will mourn once he’s dead.

 _Well then, maybe, just maybe, I can finally leave this place. Right?_ He stared at nowhere and pushed his right foot farther and harder in the gas pedal, accelerating much faster than the initial.

He gently closed his eyes and reminisce about his younger brother.

_They’re like the sun and the moon, they support each other individually, but when will they ever meet?_

He can feel the wind getting harsher against his skin, almost cutting him. He can feel the nearing left turn but instead of using his hands to maneuver, he let the wheels go wherever they want to go. Beneath this high rock of heaven was the sea, _and in that vast ocean, maybe he can finally set himself free from everything._

Another set of tears failed him as they fell down his face wetting his cheeks.

_Well, maybe-_

**The sound of the LOLOL’s theme song ringed everywhere stopping him from his madness.**

His left foot magically found the brake pedal as his left hand held the wheels and straighten the direction. He opened his eyes as he was about to drop from the beveled rocks and quickly turned his head towards the lit phone on the passenger seat.

 _Yoosung, really?_ He smiled weakly.

He grabbed his cellphone as if it’s taking up his life and quickly slide the green button.

“Hey,” he weakly greeted the younger on the other side.

He didn’t expect this younger to call him at this moment. It usually takes him an hour or so to call Seven especially when he’s told him he’s busy. He never even expected to have this younger friend to stop him _again_ from his madness.

“Hyung, did you eat already?”

Seven bit his lips, so hard that it bled. His tears wouldn’t stop right now as he stares at the moon smiling once again at his weak demeanor. He has to be cheerful, joyous 707, like the person they knew in the chatroom, but he couldn’t.

Gathering up enough courage after a long pause that Yoosung waited because he thinks that his hyung was just busy at his work, he whispered, almost silently, “Not yet-“ and tried to regain his bright attitude, “BUT! I have HBC with me~”

He knew his voice failed him again at this last minute. He wanted to be happy, at least for Yoosung, but his damn best wasn’t even enough to mask off his true feelings.

He prayed that the younger man didn’t hear the sharp note in his voice at the end, but like his voice who keeps on failing him, _the person he’s praying to also did the same._

“HYUNG! GIVE ME SOM-, wait, what’s with your voice. Hyung, are you okay?“

He needed that question, but he never thought that it would mean a lot of things if it came from Yoosung. He wanted to scream that he’s not, he wanted to let Yoosung know who he really is, how he’s Saeyoung and not Luciel nor 707, how he’s slowly dying from the cruelty he’s living.

But he also knew that Yoosung didn’t deserve that sorrow in life.

He’s grateful, _eternally._

“Thank you, Yoosung,” he slowly muttered as he changed the gear to reverse and get his life away from the _vast ocean_ and crawl back to his **home.**


	4. Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven asks himself a lot of questions, but tonight was something inevitable.

**_Sleeping._ **

Seven never had a sleeping schedule. He either slept for a whole day or is awake for days, there’s no in between and sometimes he wonders whether sleep can actually do something good for his body aside from sleeping being an escape to his problems, he can’t see the advantages of it. Maybe this was his chance?

_I don’t know, perhaps to die?_

He sighed as he stared at the ceiling of his not-so-well lit room with only the street lights accompanying him in this lonely night through his window. Every time he’s deep in the slumber of his madness and different vices, he cannot stop crying.

May it be Yoosung worrying for him or Zen about to break down the intercom at the gate of his house, he just can’t seem to drag himself out of the misery to be able to face his companions.

It’s not that he’s secluding himself from his friends- _his only valuables-_ he just wanted to be out of their lives because he brings misfortune and seeing how his RFA friends lives are going to move forward with their successes, he didn’t want to be someone who’s bringing them down when he’s supposed to be the person supporting them in the _shadows._

Each time he’s laid his back on his mattress, all he ever wanted to do was to never get away from it because the thought of straining his spine, he’s almost having a kyphosis on his supposed to be straightened vertebrae. He never imagined himself having this kind of life, _God_ knows that he’s so used to sleeping on the floor with chains restraining his leg, he’s used to the cold that almost numb his skin that the warmth brought by the comfort of his house is almost surreal to him.

And the fact that he’s living in this hole is almost suffocating him.

Never did he wanted to become one of the greatest hackers, but also did he wanted to be held captive by his agency forced to do mountains of files only to be submitted in an unreasonable time.

He knows he’s skilled and talented at his work, but he didn’t want to be talented.

He just wanted to be _happy._

Maybe the image of 707 on the chatroom wasn’t actually a mask but rather something he sought to be. He wanted to lay on this bed without worrying about his safety, the deadlines and the danger he’ll bring to his friends.

He’s so tired that his body wanted to sleep but he guesses his mind wouldn’t want him to.

He didn’t want to cry in this moment, _he’s tired of that too._ He didn’t want to feel weak anymore _\- not physically but mentally and emotionally._ He didn’t want to be like this anymore.

If there is any way for him to counteract all of this mess and return to the **peaceful** life he once had where he can just be himself and be there as a pillar for his brother, he definitely would.

And as the room got colder and his body got number, he knew, so much that it hurts him to know everything that _he cannot go back._

He gripped on his cellphone so tight that it may break, the only motivation he has right now was to not be dead and protect the RFA with all his might. He’s supposed to be the shadow of their lights and not the otherwise.

But he wanted them to see that the shadow was slowly getting eaten up by the darkness.

 _Did the darkness like me enough?_ He asked himself.

_Or did the darkness I become?_

And his eyes slowly shut for the darkness to completely envelop him and sing him lullabies.


	5. Story 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven hated the way he wasn't able to sleep.

**_Story 01._ **

Seven lazily opened their chatroom to get some news or updates about his friends. Ever since Rika died, all of them were kind of a mess. Although not completely, he knew more than anybody else that they’re not the people they were before. _It was not a bad change to be completely honest,_ but it was kind of scary for him that he may not be there throughout all the changes they will encounter.

With a small grin, _of course as 707,_ he dragged his fingers onto his screen and typed.

**707: God Seven is here! Say ho~**

_Yoosung has entered the chatroom._

**Yoosung: HOOOOOOOO**

**707: My disciple!**

**707: Aren’t you supposed to be in school?**

**Yoosung: Hyung… my brain…. can’t function….**

**707: Oh**

**707: No**

_ZEN has entered the chatroom._

**707: POOR KID….**

**ZEN: That’s because you don’t take care of yourself Yoosung**

**Yoosung: T.T Seven hyung doesn’t take care of himself either! Scold him.**

**ZEN: Yes, that’s true.**

**ZEN: Luciel, stop eating junk foods.**

Seven laughed behind his phone and retained the smile on the creaks of his eyes behind the glasses. This was exactly the time where he feels so light and can laugh wholeheartedly even if there’s nothing funny just because it all feels too good to be true. As he mentioned a lot of times now, he treasures RFA- _to his death and he’s not even joking._

The only reason why he’s still living inside his cave and work like a cockroach because he needed to hide his identity from his father who’s basically just _a piece of shit_ who wanted him and his brother off the world as if they asked him to be born. Knowing too well that Jumin could give him a _fake identity_ if he wanted to, he just wanted for the other guys and Jaehee to be out of his mess.

With no connections like this, Luciel’s the only name they know, it will be better once _he’s far away from safety._

**707: Zen, you know fully well that I take care of myself by simply taking care of you**

**707: THE tripter bot has spread your new show**

**707: AGAIN!!**

**707: GOD SEVEN!!**

**707: TH**

**707: AN**

**707: k YOU!!**

**ZEN: Dude…**

Catching a glimpse from his digital clock, he cussed under his breath and turned his phone off and proceed to typing an algorithm to the security breaking system he’s been creating for 2 days now. He was asked by a client to access a company’s data- that has a high security- and source them the information.

Most likely to bring their competitors down.

Not that he cares.

He just wanted to get off this piling workload from his desk and couch and sleep his ass off for days. Not because he’s an agent and was always sleep deprived does it mean that he’s already used to feeling that way.

It sucks.

And it feels like it’s tearing down his head apart.

Into two.

Into quarter.

Into **_bits._**


	6. Story 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven never knew that Vanderwood had it in him.

**_Story 02._ **

He wasn’t able to feel the hours pass by. He didn’t even realize that he was holding down his urine because he was too immersed with what’s he’s been getting himself into. He also didn’t notice Vanderwood to come through his Arabic door and set his body off on the other side of the couch with a coffee mug in his right hand and his cell phone on the other.

Startled, he bashfully looked at his supervisor, “Madam, at least say hi to me when you get inside my own house. I repeat the words: my, own and house,” as he walked towards the man feeling the strains from his eyes and little healing wounds scratch his sweater.

He can’t be wearing the same hoodie after all for weeks.

The man didn’t bother to raise his head up at the redhead as he knows exactly where he is and tosses his phone to Seven, “Look at that incident.”

Seven managed to catch the phone and read the article.

But what took his attention the most was a photo.

A photo of a girl who’s had her limbs severely damaged with bones popping out.

“Isn’t this the daughter of Agent 901’s client?”

Vanderwood looked at the bewildered redhead’s amber eyes and sighed.

His partner’s either a 10-year-old kid or a 30-year-old suicidal man.

“Apparently, another hacker was trying to breach the company of 901’s client. I don’t know the full details, boss just sent me that and explained so briefly,” he dismissed his hands in the air and watch the still confused look on Seven’s eyes.

Sometimes, Seven doesn’t know where exactly his handler wanted to go with their conversation. He adored his handler, if he could get out of this pest life, he would definitely give Vanderwood a chance to run off with him- although that sounded weird.

Zooming here and there in the picture, he couldn’t unsee what he just saw.

That was why his horrified look turned at Vanderwood and shoved the phone onto his handler’s hands, “Damn miss, I don’t know if you’re slightly cruel or just overly cruel, there’s no in between,” earning a disgusted look from Vanderwood.

Not that Vanderwood cares about the seemingly lack of sense Seven has today, and as he observed, HBC’s the only thing that running his gears right now _and a green bottle which was not Ph.D?_

“Since when do you like the taste of alcohol kid?”

A baffled look returned to look at the brown eyes of Vanderwood as Vanderwood stared deeply at those eyes that has a glint of panic due to this question, he knew he shouldn’t mess with Seven’s mess, but could you really blame him?

It took them years to be this close.

And it would take a moment to break it all off.

“Truth, 707, I only need the truth.”

Crutching his fingernails onto his palm, there was no escape at those words. There is no need to try any antics because even if Vanderwood’s taser doesn’t affect him, his eyes do and that sucks, “I’m in a _loophole_ , miss, and _I can’t stop it_ ,” he sighed.

“And if _I can?_ ”

Seven stopped for moments. He felt his feet tumble with each other, he felt his eyes welling up, _he couldn’t let his handler see him cry_ and cussed his handler for doing this, _“Damn you, miss”_. He roughly closed his eyes and fought the tears back; he held his hands closer to his chest.

Seven never imagined his handler to say that, but Vanderwood actually saying that, meant a lot to him.

Vanderwood still has his eyes on the weak body in front of him who’s barely standing up until he opened the eyes behind the glasses and shimmered at his figure, “ _I know_.”

Vanderwood knew that those amber eyes could never lie.

_Could never die._

And he swore to never let that.


	7. Story 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood proved that being a hacker was never a good job like how people thought it was.

**_Story 03._ **

Vanderwood watched Seven sleep after his partner finished working on the set of algorithms to finally complete the workload he has for today. Judging from the color of the undereye his partner has, it seems like 2 days ago was the last time Seven ever had a full 4 hours of sleep.

Right after Vanderwood watched Seven cry and limp those fragile legs to his couch, his heart break into pieces in so many ways that he didn’t knew was possible.

When Seven was assigned to him years ago, Seven was so scared and angry of and _from_ everything. Seven would usually stare at the ceilings of their _almost mentally discouraging_ rooms and sob like a kid. Vanderwood sure did hear all the whimpers and whines, all those muffled moans especially the way Seven would slowly shut his mouth whenever he gets to finally drift off to sleep.

He heard everything and knows so little from this man, his partner, Agent 707 and his _child._

He always treated Seven as his child for a lot of reasons that he didn’t want to bother enumerating.

And he knows that Seven didn’t really want to be in this place, neither does Seven deserved it.

Vanderwood stood up and collected all the bags of chips lying underneath the table and his desk, the cans of Ph.D Pepper and the bottle of alcohol just lying around. Some were half-full, and some were almost empty.

He knew how Seven didn’t really like the taste and smell of alcohol. After making him try a lot of times whenever they’re celebrating, the man would always throw up.

That was why it shocked him, to his guts, to see multiple of bottles desperately _trying their damn best to make Seven to forget._

Vanderwood threw the garbage in a plastic bag and went to the kitchen to get the broom. He always does this, cleaning his partner’s cave. He never did enjoy this chore, there are a lot of random things he always seems to pick up from Seven’s floor and some of them were unexplainable, but he didn’t bother to ask for some explanation.

Seven needed a part that can only be called as himself.

That was why Vanderwood respected Seven so much.

Vanderwood drifted his eyes on the kitchen to see anything else he could pick up and throw away. He walked inside it and saw different brands of junk foods the man could ever stuff himself with.

There’s not even a sign of bottled water in that filthy room.

Until a tainted blade with the color of crimson sparkled inside the poorly lit room caught Vanderwood’s eyes. He scrunched his brows together and rushed to pick the blade up from the sink that too, was also tainted with blood.

And that Vanderwood’s scowl together with the ringing of Seven’s cellphone made him look at the said man who’s been extracting blood from his own veins.

He rushed towards the living room of the cave and looked into his partner’s phone desperately wanting to shut the noise and focus on his welling up disappointment as it read, “Jumin Han,” and took his phone up to slide the sweater up from his wrists.

And there it was, old ones under the fresh ones, he never knew that Seven’s cutting himself again and he was the first person who’s supposed to know that.

“Sick bastard, I told you not to hurt yourself.”

He’s so disappointed of himself and with the _RFA_. It seems like _nobody cared_ for the welfare of their friend and that sucks.

He knew every member of RFA and studied them very well. As much as he didn’t want to pry into his partner’s privacy, he needed to ensure the safety of his partner- _being his only considered family left in the world_ he made sure that his partner only has trustworthy people and never hurt himself, but Vanderwood once again failed.

_People say that hackers are the worst beings in the internet, being able to pry into data that other sane people wouldn’t bother looking at, hackers are definitely disgusting to be able to hold onto secrets of other people like their own. People also hated the way that hackers could stay behind their devices and do whatever they want without actually having to lose something other than being caught, but what they didn’t know is that being a hacker is actually the loneliest job in this world._

_The loneliest, the darkest and the most depressing job of them all._

_Because one who holds a lot of secrets,_

_“Completely loses himself,_ **_Saeyoung_** ,” Vanderwood whispered as he turned the silent mode on in his partner’s phone.


	8. Cutting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pain never overwhelmed Seven that is why he kept doing it.

**_Cutting._ **

Seven woke up with bandages on his wrist and his handler’s face throwing him a face of worry and disgust. _Indeed, a face of disgust._ Seven felt the need to hide in the corner and sob his eyes out. Not only because his _secret_ was revealed to someone but also because _that someone is no other than Vanderwood_.

He never wanted to disappoint his handler, he never wanted anyone to see his lies and masks. He never wanted anyone to know that he’s just as disappointed at himself like everyone else. _He promises that._

“Miss, I can explain-,” Seven desperately tried to fight the eyes that were throwing daggers at his very own amber ones.

Vanderwood shook his head and reached out for Seven’s head whilst Seven expecting a smack, but only a pair of arms wrapped around his now seemingly little frame.

“I don’t need an explanation Sev. I am sorry for not being able to protect you.”

With that statement from his handler, the warmth that enveloped his head and the scent from Vanderwood’s coat comforted him in this painful and cold evening that’s full of blood, sweat, tears and alcohol. Tears finally streamed down his face for the first time in front of Vanderwood and though he was fighting the urge earlier to let the tears fall from his eyes, _this side of Vanderwood will never fail to make him weep and loathe himself even more._

Vanderwood only listened, the way he did that with his partner seven years ago, but the only thing that was different from then to now was that Seven knew that he was listening, and that _someone is listening to him_ , “I am sorry for letting you feel that way Sev, I am your handler, I should’ve known,” Vanderwood rubbed the back of his partner as the cries continued ringing his ears.

He was truly sorry for this guy.

And he was truly sorry for himself too.

He should be a better pillar for Seven to lean on. He’s not just the handler who keeps on nagging at his partner to continue working and threatening him with his taser.

He should’ve been better.

“Miss, _you are the best,_ and I hope you know that,” muffled cries and voice spilled at the black sweater of Vanderwood who’s still clinging onto the crying figure in front of him.

Though the handler’s back was severely aching already for how long they’ve been staying in this position, the handler still went on his way and forget the pain to embrace and share the pain his partner was feeling at the moment, he connected.

Vanderwood’s lips turned into a pry smile and continued to listen to Seven’s voice.

“And even if you are the best handler anyone could ever have, I am not the best person you could have handled,” Seven slowly pushed the chest of his handler away from his face, slightly embarrassed by the contact both of them had just now, “ _I don’t want to be 707 anymore miss, **I am sick and tired of being a shadow** ,” _he rubbed his eyes underneath the glasses and tried to hide his puffed cheeks, “But, I am their protector,” and slightly nudged at his cell phone lying on the coffee table, “ _And I always will be_.”

Vanderwood looked at the eyes of Seven like those eyes were telling him a story. It speaks about a man who’s only will was to protect the people that he loves and a man who’s desperate in trying to find the love he needed for himself.

He knew what to do from the very start of this encounter.

But he was afraid.

He shifted his feet at the floor and took a blade out of his pocket, the same blade Seven used in cutting the newly open wounds one. He approached the laid back Seven in the couch and asked for his hand with a slight nod which Seven willingly gave with confused look, and without thinking twice, Vanderwood threw the blade onto his hand and turned his back to Seven.

“Cut into a flesh that I don’t see, that way I wouldn’t know what you were doing to yourself. If that’s the only way to feel things and be a little bit alive in your own way, do so, please yourself, _but don’t you ever dare try to die with me while I am still your partner,_ ” Vanderwood slowly walked away and closed his eyes to try and forget, “ ** _Saeyoung._** ”

Just a whisper of his real name was all it took for Seven to cut his hand by turning it into a fist of shock and as the blood slowly dripped into his black carpet, his handler completely turned himself into the bathroom.

“ _Miss- just how?!_ ”

Completely forgetting the pain in his hand.


	9. Luciel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven only wanted to be heard and Yoosung was there for him.

**_Luciel._**  
  
Staring at the window from Seven's car, Yoosung knew that he was going to go crazy if his friend wouldn't tell him where the hell were they going. All he ever wanted to do today was to have fun and goof around with Seven who has been missing in action for days without even opening a chatroom on their very own messenger.  
  
He was truly worried about his friend's state of being and welfare, but he knew that it was none of his business just like what Seven always implied to the boys and Jaehee.  
  
"Hyung, I want to go to a laser room, not some deserted island-" Yoosung once again complained at the stoic face of the redhead who's just staring at the road and it was the first time Yoosung has ever saw that kind of face from his redhead friend, "Hyung-" he once again complained.  
  
Seven never planned this all out. After the incident with Vanderwood, all he ever wanted to do was to isolate himself and completely drift away from their lives until a certain blonde man banged at his gates and shouted for minutes without even restraining himself.  
  
So in the end, he went out of his cave and took one of his cars to drive him and his friend away from his hell of a home.  
  
He was indebted with Yoosung, he knew that. Unknowingly, this man keeps on saving him from being a total mess and he was grateful to Yoosung in so many ways and how could he ever get away from those lavender doe eyes?  
  
"Do you want to know my name?" Seven glanced at the baffled look of Yoosung who stared at his face like what he said was a joke.  
  
This was not a time to joke, and Seven knows that well that was why he will not be joking with Yoosung anymore, "Exactly as I asked you Yoosung, do you want to know my name?" He repeated the words like chanting at Yoosung's ears who still couldn't believe how serious his friend looks right now.  
  
And how sad those amber eyes were staring at his lavender ones.  
  
Not knowing what to say, he instantly replied, "You're Luciel Choi hyung, as if we didn't know about that already," a proud statement came from Yoosung's tiny mouth that was not what Seven wanted to hear at all and Yoosung saw how Seven's stiff look didn't move an inch at all, "Hyung, stop joking already, you're being too serious," Yoosung once again exclaimed trying to get away from the awkward air between the two of them.  
  
Seven huffed the air in between his cheeks and bit his tongue slightly, it scars him to see Yoosung be afraid of him; that once his friends will know who he really is, they'll leave him because none of this was what he deserved and that depresses him. He stared at his dcar wheel and looked over the nearing top of the hill he planned on bringing Yoosung over.  
  
He will start to show himself, bits by bits, until none of them could finally take him in.  
  
And eventually, leave him.  
  
Seven mumbled a response at Yoosung's remark and scoffed a little bit, "Luciel, huh? You see the angel, but not the evil?" And with that, the car stopped together with Yoosung's wide eyes and Seven's cold stance.  
  
Neither of them utter a single word and stayed in silence waiting for each other to clear up the air, the heavy air between them.   
  
Seven knew that how he approached the youngest was the worst kind of approach he could have ever done, considering that Yoosung looks up at him in so many things and how he talks about Seven being his best friend.  
  
Though it break his heart to dismiss the unwanted platonic amusement Yoosung could ever have for Seven, he would willingly do so, especially now that the man in front of him stares at him like how Saeran, his younger brother, would, ages ago.  
  
"You say you are my best friend, but how could you not see me as someone who's not Seven nor Luciel?" It was a taunt that received a shocked expression and a hurtful one at that, "Vanderwood told me to open up to my friends," Seven looked at Yoosung's eyes, deeply, like it was a hole drawing him in, "But could you take it for me and my dying self if I told you and the others the whole truth, Yoosung?"  
  
He waited no response from the younger and continued, "I do not wish to be saved, Yoosung, I only wish to be heard," with a smile that confuses the younger more not just because of what's he's heard, may it be the sudden name drop or the other concerns, but because of the realization that the Seven he knew, the one who keeps on helping the RFA from all of their messes couldn't help himself the way he does with others.  
  
This was not Seven nor Luciel, this was someone different.  
  
"Can you hear me then?"  
  
Without deliberating much thought, Yoosung's hands travelled over to Seven's head and pat it like a pet.   
  
Accompanied by the almost drooping low sunlight, he never felt Seven this warm, he never felt Seven this weak. The man, his best friend whom he keeps on looking up to was showing a side to him he never knew he needed to see and no, Seven shouldn't be grateful to Yoosung because he saves him; Yoosung was more grateful to Seven for allowing Yoosung to save him.

  
With a genuine smile on Yoosung's face, he replied, "Loud and clear, God Seven."  
  



	10. Yoosung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven finally saw Yoosung for who he truly was.

**_Yoosung._ **

Seven hates to admit that this fragile, little man he’s holding between his arms is a part of his _dangerous_ , numerous vices. Yoosung was sobbing, almost bawled his eyes out when Seven told him about his past. He did not do that to ask for some pity from the younger, all he wanted to do was _open_ himself up and welcome his friends.

He was finally willing to let people know he is, even if it scares him to death.

It almost drove him to madness when he saw Yoosung feel bad for him. He knew that Yoosung would’ve always had that pure sentiment in his heart-- all without the judgement; he knew that _that_ pure heart, something of which he didn’t have, made him this _addicted_.

Indeed, Yoosung was a part of his vices.

Seeing how Yoosung would force himself to speak incoherent words to try and make Seven cheer up from the depressing story he’s shared, really made Seven’s nerves calm down and resist all the negative energy he should’ve felt hours ago. Seeing that fragile body fold to half in an attempt to wipe the tears away, _really_ made him feel better.

Maybe, he was truly selfish-- but can you really hate him for being this selfish?

The warm eyes that Yoosung gives to Seven always touches Seven’s emotions in so many ways that he didn’t know was possible. After being isolated from people, he swore to every saint out there that he wouldn’t feel any kind of attachment to anyone. 

But who was he kidding?

Saeran’s image always floats around whenever Yoosung is there, asking Seven to play with him. Saeran’s image was always there, reminding Seven of who he actually was and why he shouldn’t forget.

In all honesty, Seven always feels bad for Yoosung.

There were times where he couldn't distinguish Yoosung and Saeran, and acts like everything was _okay_ , but he knew for sure, Yoosung wouldn’t like that.

“Hyung!” Yoosung once again whined at the smiling Seven, oblivious of the sad emotion emitted by the older, “I’m sorry,” he once again pleaded.

Seven brought his hands to Yoosung’s face and pushed the fringe that escaped from Yoosung’s hairpins away from the wet skin. His small smile grew, wider and larger. He looked into Yoosung’s lavender eyes, looking for the same orbits that save him multiple times from falling.

And when he could finally see those, he closed his eyes and pushed back the tears that threatened to fall.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he whispered through his itchy throat, “I should be _sorry_ to you.”

He felt a hand touch his and wrapped his thin fingers with warmth and sweat. Somehow, he felt _safe_.

“I’m sorry I _lied_ to you. I wanted you to be someone else. I am sorry, Yoosung.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of Saeyoung's feelings about the different vices in 3rd Person's POV. 
> 
> All the similarities you may see in my fictions and other author's fictions are purely circumstantial. This is my very own imagination and work.


End file.
